Another, slightly hopeful, vent chapter
TW: CSA
Three am calls to the police department
It is always in the darkest part of my mind that he will hurt someone else.
I barely made it out, if you call this the end, the thought of another human being experiencing the things I need rips me in half all over again.
I was in a light sleep when I heard her crying for help.
She kept repeating herself, like the sound of rain on a metal roof.
I woke up and I knew this wasn't how it seemed to my mind, but maybe something could be changed.
I stared at that phone number for long enough and soon I made the call.
The report wasn't made, but it will be.
It seems nobody wants me to send him to where he belongs, but I will try, nobody should learn to take it like I did.
A letter
Why are you the way that you are?
How did you not hear the screams?
Why do still have his photos up?
What do you expect from me?
I ask these questions here because I don't want to hear what words and excuses would come pouring out.
He said he didn't want to file a police report.
He wouldn't do it again.
As if years of abuse were not enough.
I called in tonight, I am going to the station tomorrow.
If you will not prevent this chapter from being retold I will not be with you as I watch it being written.
Burn the page
I do not think about it too much.
I live and breathe my past but I am not entertaining a thought. I am reliving what I knew I wouldn't be able to through.
I am not wallowing in self pity, I am finally letting myself admit the scars are there.
Don't tell me I need to move on, you have no right to act as if I am using everything in myself to do so.
I am haunted, but I will not burn the page.
Waiting
The police report was not made without thought but it was made impulsively.
They did not help when they could nor did they pick up the pieces.
So there I was, I rode my bike and told them myself.
I am now waiting to call my mother and tell her that her so-called son is finally getting what he deserves.
I will not be made to feel guilty for what I did. I was not the rapist. I am not watching this story be written again.
I will not let anyone go through what I did, not if I can help it, and I am not a little girl anymore.
Nothing she could say would make me regret this decision.
In between
She answered the call.
She listened when I told her I will not leave this hanging over my head and I am not sorry.
I do not understand my mother,
But in that moment I think she was able to see that I will not turn my head to the left and walk away from my body, not anymore.
She called my dad and they were not angry.
I was told I should have come to them, but we both know that's not exactly easy.
This is not the parents they thought they were, but it is the ones they are.
I am proud of my decision. I will not be made ashamed of surviving. I will not let another child live through what I did.
YOU ARE READING
Letters from sixteen
PoetryA poetry book I wrote during periods of my life with many different facets. I wrote about happy moments, addiction, and trauma, the book becomes more depressing as it goes on. I choose the title "letters from sixteen" to capture how I wanted to capt...
